


Batshit crazy

by Raindrenchedstories



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Alucard has no idea what to do, But no one knows how to say it., Confused speakers, Dracula needs an intervention, Dracula tries to dad everyone, Even more confused servants, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hector just wants to be supportive, Humor, Inevitable angst given the grief part, Isaac is in the same boat but trying, Kidnapping, Mass Kidnapping, Relationships... maybe, Trevor is pissed, cannon character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindrenchedstories/pseuds/Raindrenchedstories
Summary: Shortly after losing one of the most important people in his afterlife, Dracula decides he's not going to lose one more soul before their time. No. He'll keep them safe. He swears it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Batshit crazy

The last of the embers died just as he arrived. And with them, a small part of him. Too late. He was far too late to save her. What was left of the vampire's heart ached. A hollow feeling surrounded him as he left them his final warning. One year. One year to leave the country or atone for their sins. The rest of the night, Dracula had openly wept in his room. Clinging to Lisa's night dress tightly. One of them. Another had gone missing, but Adrian's scent lingered just as heavily in the room. And wasn't that just the sting of it? They took a wife, and a mother. They took her, and left her to die in the most pain they could possibly inflict on her while making a spectacle of it. Rage filled him.

But even still, she had begged him. Adrian had said so. Begged him to forgive them. He could not. He simply could not forgive such terrible people. People who she'd only devoted her life to treating with kindness. And they threw it in her face, and slaughtered her for it. And what legacy did she leave? Her studies were raised to the ground, her workspace destroyed, and her memory preserved by the brief memory of mortals she once showed kindness to. With a soft gasp, The man curled around the cloth, keeping her pillow in his lap for some support. Then he caught the scent again. Yes, she left all those brief flickers. She also left a brilliant, beautiful boy in her wake. Her greatest gift to him.

A boy who was mourning the loss of his mother, and probably needed comfort as much as he did. Slowly, Dracula rose. He staggered the hallways. Ignoring the confused glances of the few servants he kept. Only pausing to dismiss them for the night. He found Adrian curled in his childhood room, clutching a painting of her. Nothing was said between father and son. Just a quiet understanding as Vlad gathered the boy in his arms, and laid atop his bed. Of course, his son would have been far too large for this. He was a tall, spindly young man. Yet, he gave no struggle. It was the closest the two could have to being in a full family embrace. They both fell asleep stained with tears.

He only woke when the sun streamed into the room. And only to cover both he, and his child in a blanket. Adrian had shifted a while later. Probably to go some place, yet, he held firm. "Just stay a little longer my boy. Just until nightfall." Just for now. He wanted to hold the last living piece of Lisa just for a moment longer. His son stilled for a short while, then let off a sigh.

"I shall return, however... I do not wish to- Well." He shifted uncomfortably, and realization clicked into place. He released the lad immediately, with instruction to mind the sunlight. As much as he ached without Lisa, she was far too pure to have ended up in hell waiting for him. No. She would be looking down on them. And he would not hurt her by ending his own life. Especially not by the hand of his own child. Not after her pleas to forgive...THEM. When Adrian returned they both lay face to face. Neither wanting to talk about the hurt they both felt. Instead, they just passed meaningful nods and small lingering sighs that said far more than words.

Eventually, as night fell, Vlad sat up. "I cannot forgive them. My son." Adrian rose to object in his mother's place, only to be stilled by a raised hand. "I will honor them. Her last wishes. But in my own way. I would ask that you remain. At least until this year passes."

"Father. There ARE good people out there. There ARE those deserving of forgiveness. Someone had to instill those beliefs in mother." His son pleaded. Dracula mulled those words over. His son's wide, worried eyes. They reminded him of someone. Someone not much older than Adrian. Someone who was still just a child himself, really. Or another man, who had to grow up too fast, too soon. If he had found them sooner, would they have been like her? The speed at which he pulled his boy close to his heart would have been blinding to most. Adrian jerked violently as it was. Not expecting that much affection from this discussion.

He ran his hands through his son's hair, just thinking. "There are. But they are few. Too few." He moved to release the boy and leave the room. Adrian held firm. Short claws dug into the fabric of Dracula's shirt. Uncertain, frightened, wary. A reasonable response, he'd never been a rational man when angered. And Dracula was angry. But this, the thoughts forming in his mind, were far from malicious.

He soothed a hand through Adrian's hair. "Do not worry, my son. I don't plan on killing tonight. But know that the bishop, and anyone else responsible, will burn." His son nodded, but didn't release him.

"And... the rest?"

"We will see." Dracula dislodged his child and stood. "I simply...need time to think."

'Time to think' ended up being three nights in the study, hardly drinking, hardly leaving. There were, in fact, good humans. Lisa had been proof enough. Dracula stared at his hands. There were the speakers, who devoted their lives to helping those in need. They were hated by the church. There were the Belmonts, people who wanted to protect mankind in their own misguided way. Well, Belmont. The last survivor. His family was slaughtered for their efforts. There were Isaac, and Hector, who were only victims of their cruel race. His closest friends, really. The thought of losing them wounded him as well.

Losing any of them. Even the last Belmont. Sadly, they all seamed to face the same risks. The same fate as his wife. The thought of those rays of light being lost. Dracula's hands shook. He stood, strode to the door of his study, and barked an order for fresh, human blood. No. He would not lose anyone again. Not. One. More. He would celebrate Lisa's memory, the only way he knew how. He invited his son for a drink.

The pair sat together in the warm glow of the fireplace. Though Adrian had little love for human blood, he humored his father just this once. Dreading what would most likely end up a physical battle between them. Dracula seamed more at ease, his lips graced the chalice he chose to drink from. Though he gestured for Adrian to at least drink a little more. Just a small amount more. There would be no fight between them. There was nothing to fight over. As Adrian drained the last of his glass with a grimace. 

Father and son simply reminisced together, about times not long ago. Until Adrian's head started to lull gently to the left or the right. His eyes struggled to stay open. Until something seamed to flicker behind those honeyed eyes. Realization seamed to take over. "Father?"

"Come. I'll help you to bed." The older man stood and offered an arm to his son. Slowly he guided his gentile boy towards his childhood room. Despite a rolling protest that hardly counted as words, he prodded the boy forward. When his child's legs failed he carried him. Curled against his chest like a small tot again. It made an old warmth curl. "I know you must be tired."

He tucked Adrian under the covers, thick quilts were pulled past his shoulders and to his chin. Though he did paus to help his son remove his boots and coat. There was an accusing whine as careful claws played gently with those long golden strands of hair. "I know. You were always a little fussy around nap time. Would you like me to sing to you like the old days?" A louder protest responded. So it seamed in poor taste to jest further. Instead, he sat with Adrian until his already soft breathing grew faint. Fast asleep with his hands curled on the pillows.

* * *

Trevors eyes were glazed and unfocussed as he staggered through the cold evening air. He clutched his cloak just a air closer. Just a bit further and he could find some barn to pass out in. Damn bastards at the inn could have taken his coin, but no. They had a thing against Belmonts. He only just noticed the crunching of snow behind him. Crisp under the strangers footfalls. "Look buddy. I'm having a shit night. Capping off a shit day. And it's just not wise to try and rob me right now." He groaned. Something hissed, his body shivered on alert at the inhuman sound. When he spun to face it, he found the space empty.

His hand dropped to the grip of his whip when white exploded behind his eyes. Trevor Belmont, last of his clan, fell forward to the snow. Oddly, he never felt a collision beyond some kind of fleshy bar under his torso.

* * *

Sypha swirled her cup at dinner. The water tasted funny. It had been a fresh barrel, but her troupe seamed less than concerned. They claimed it was something about the barrel. Or perhaps it was just stale from lack of use. She took another cautious sip. If they weren't in such a public eye, she would have spared the magic to boil it first. She paused as one of the older speakers seamed to nod off. Then another. The elders seamed to be getting an early night. Not even able to sup with the younger members of the group. It was a bit endearing. Until she started to feel foggy herself. Looking up, she found the rest of her family was much the same. Heads dropping in uncertain weariness. 

Her eyes blew wide as she tossed her cup aside. She grabbed her grandfather by the arm, only to find him fast asleep. Horror crept through her body. She turned to the others, calling for them to stop drinking the water. She managed a garbled sound before the terrified faces of her clan. Something stung the back of her neck.

* * *

Pleasantly, Hector had been dreaming already when he felt the slight sting in his arm. He stirred a small amount to swat at it. Assuming it was some stray insect. Yes, he liked animals, but the hatred for biting buzzing things was instinctual. The only thing that tipped him off that something was wrong, was a soft whine from Cezar. But he was slow to stir. The feeling of being lifted was probably the last sensation he'd remember.

* * *

Isaac mopped his brow. Simply taking time to enjoy the lingering cold of the evening. Dawn was approaching soon, and with it, the wretched heat of the day. If he had the choice, he'd have been born in a colder climate. Perhaps as a different creature entirely. Though, he was glad for his own mental faculties. He gave a soft sigh and watched the stars just a bit longer. The air felt noticeably displaced, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in a way he'd learned well. His hands traveled to his blade and flog respectively. "If you wish to linger in the shadows, you may as well clear your throat. At least."

"Isaac." A welcome voice rolled through the air gently. Isaac's shoulders dropped for a moment. He moved to greet his friend, a soft smile on his features. "Forgive me." Was all the warning he got. He didn't even see Dracula move before he was knocked unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know how to end this chapter and get on to the plot. So please, bare with me here. The giggles start next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self indulgent fic done for laughs. Don't take it too seriously guys.


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